Silent Night
by Tuesday101
Summary: The first Christmas on the ground.


**I wrote this one-shot with a friend of mine. rxsetyler on and txrdis on wattpad. You can also find me at anarrowhearts on wattpad and tumblr. Hope you guys all enjoy our little Bellarke Christmas one shot. I hope to start writing some more stories now ;)))))**

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><p>The snow fell like ash and encompassed the camp.<p>

Clarke stood, shivering in the cold. The other teenagers stared in wonder; snow was something they'd never encountered before. They frolicked outside, absorbed in the miracle. But for Clarke, the first frost brought no joy; instead, her stomach twisted into knots.

She and Bellamy had been fretting over their supplies; trying to figure out if they had enough to last the winter. They figured they'd starve to death before they froze. The Ark had been no help; even though they had established contact, it wasn't like the Ark could send down Santa's sleigh filled with food and blankets, and maybe some construction materials. No, the Ark had their own problems to deal with; the oxygen levels were dangerously low, and the Council was too busy praying for a Christmas miracle to give one to the hundred.

Jasper and Monty had set up a bonfire in the centre of camp, mixing non-poisonous plants into what they called "Christmas Brew." Clarke had spit the concoction out of her mouth. Now she stood on the ramp of the drop ship, completely empty of any happiness despite the new snow or the laughter it brought.

"Lighten up Griffin!"

Of course, she thought, of all people.

"A little cold and a nasty tasting drink isn't going to kill anybody," Bellamy said.

Clarke didn't dare turn to look at him; she kept her eyes on the woods surrounding camp. Just because they had the wall around the camp didn't mean they were safe from Grounders.

"Starvation will," She muttered.

He sighed. "Jesus, Clarke, it's Christmas. Would it kill you to smile?"

"It's not Christmas," Clarke retorted. "The Ark hasn't celebrated Christmas in seventy-two years, and just because it's snowing doesn't mean it's Christmas."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, as far as I'm concerned, snow is something to be happy about. We finally have something to celebrate. I don't know about you, Princess, but I'm going to take that opportunity; I'm going to celebrate."

Bellamy stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the wall. She huffed, crossing her arms in frustration.

Bellamy walked down the ramp, the sound of his foot prints banging on the cold metal. She was not about to celebrate for nothing.

"Monty!"

He turned his head. The girl Monty was talking to gave Clarke a look before swaying off back into the crowd.

"Come on, I think I really had a shot with her," Monty whined.

"I'm sure you did. Did you check the water supply?"

"Done," Monty said proudly. He took a sip of the Christmas Brew. Clarke thought is was a miracle he didn't choke on the stuff, but maybe he was too hyped up to care.

"The food supply?"

"Done," he mumbled into the mug.  
>Clarke glared, not convinced he was taking this seriously.<p>

"About the blankets, tents and ammunition supply," she asked.

"Come on Clarke, lighten up and celebrate-"

"There is nothing to celebrate. Go find Octavia and make sure everything is in order."

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, fine. You win."

Clarke pretended not to hear him mutter "Joykill," under his breath.  
>Bellamy sauntered off, and Clarke watched him go. The snowflakes settled into her hair, melting in streams down her face. She turned and stomped into the drop ship.<br>Down at the campfire, Bellamy searched for his sister.

"What's her problem?" Harper leaned in and said to him, gesturing towards Clarke. Bellamy shifted his gaze to the drop ship, his eyes catching Clarke dart into the metal structure.

"Hang on a second," he said, handing his cup to Harper.

He broke into a jog, chasing after Clarke. She was sitting inside, organizing knapsacks.

Bellamy stood in the door of the drop ship, watching her. Clarke either didn't notice him or didn't care. She was sorting the backpacks into different piles then moved them around the room.

"What are you doing?" Bellamy asked glancing down at the floor before looking back up at her.

"Sorting, prepping, being responsible," she answered without pausing the work.

"Clarke," Bellamy started to speak in the most commanding tone he could muster. "I-"

Clarke shoved a knapsack in his hands. "Here, help."

Much to his own surprise, Bellamy listened to her. He sat beside her and grabbed some supplies-blankets, bullets, nutrition packs, rope, canteens, packs of nuts and berries, and antiseptic wipes- and stuffed them into knapsacks. His calloused hands worked quickly, and he gazed at Clarke as he worked. It was a skill he'd mastered; looking at Clarke while doing something else. The best part was that she never noticed him. It shocked Bellamy that he could do that; it was surprising that he even wanted to look at Clarke. It wasn't like he was in love with her, or anything. That was just stupid.

"You're shivering," Bellamy observed.

"I'm fine," Clarke said under her breath, rubbing her arms.

Bellamy grabbed a blanket, and he shifted so that he was sitting right beside her; one more inch and he'd be sitting on her lap. Clarke became very interested in the pack she was preparing.

"You're shivering." Bellamy repeated, in his most commanding tone. Clarke seemed to shrink. He took the blanket and draped it over her shoulders, and he rubbed her back for extra warmth.

Clarke could feel her cheeks flush. She was very aware of Bellamy gazing at her intently, and it was like his eyes were boring holes in her skin. His strong hands, running circles on her back, didn't help matters. What an asshole.

What a stupid, awful, jerk-face, adorable, wonderful asshole.

Clarke turned her head. If she moved that inch their lips would be touching, they would be kissing. She could see the small bits of stumble that dotted his chin and upper.

Her cheeks flushed at the thoughts running through her head and she turned her head back down at the knapsack.

Bellamy huffed a sigh and turned to Clarke, extending his hand beneath the blanket. Clarke stared at his hand as if it was a new life form, yet the irony in that.

"What are you doing?" she mumbled.

Bellamy smirked. "You can't tell me you're going to sit here the whole time while everyone else is celebrating."

Clarke glanced up, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I can, actually," she was amazed that she didn't stumble through her words.

A part of her desperately wanted to take his hand and run off in what ever wild adventure he had thought of.

Bellamy didn't even ask anything before he grabbed Clarke's empty and hand and dragged her off the drop ship floor.

"Let me go, Bellamy," Clarke muttered, trying her best to sound annoyed. All she could focus on was the feeling of his hand in hers.

"Nope," Bellamy shook his head and pulled her into the centre of the drop ship where there was a clear area.

" Bellamy I'm not in the mood-"

She let out a gasp as Bellamy lifted her up by her waist and placed her feet on his. Her whole body froze. Bellamy's hands roamed down her arms sending shivers up her spine.

"Have you ever been to the library in the Ark?" He murmured, his brown eyes drinking her in.

Clarke scoffed. "Of course." She tried to sound annoyed, but he was so close to her, and she could smell him, and almost taste him, and so the string of words came out as a gasp of wonder instead. How had she let this boy completely mesmerize her?

"Well, I used to read all sorts of books about Old Earth; I'd snatch one or two, stuff 'em under my coat, and take off. My favorite one was about Old Earth traditions. There was a huge chapter about Christmas. The entire concept fascinated me; that there could be one day of peace, a day where family comes together, where everything is happy and bright and musical."

Clarke continue to gaze upon him, and his warm eyes seemed far away.

"It just seemed like something the Ark needed. I kept asking my mother if we could have a Christmas; I wanted to go out and buy a gift for Octavia, I wanted to make her feel loved. Eventually, my mother found the book. She was troubled, at first, but I think eventually she warmed up to the idea.  
>"But the best part was at the end of the book. There was some sheet music of old carols, pages filled with notes and lyrics. I didn't know what they meant, but my mother could read music; eventually, she figured it all out, to the point where she could sing the songs. We kept it strictly in our house, of course, but... It was something special. No other family on the Ark celebrated Christmas, but we did. It was just..." He sighed.<p>

"I understand."

"Christmas," Bellamy said, entwining his fingers with hers, "is a time of joy, and music, and love."

Clarke let out a shallow gasp.

"And I'm not going to let you screw it up by being, well, you."

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks."

He looked her up and down, memorizing her as if she was a rare gem that would shatter at any moment. "Here, let me show you something. Put your arms around my neck."

Clarke blushed, again. She obeyed, but couldn't help but acknowledge how weird the whole situation was. Bellamy? Being affectionate? What had the world come to?

And yet, she felt like this was how it should be; where she belonged. This was right.

Bellamy's hands gripped her waist, and Clarke was mildly disappointed. All the novels had described it as being 'electric' when two people touched, but when Bellamy touched her, sparks didn't fly; instead, she felt as if her heart swelled a few sizes. Okay, that wasn't much better. When did Clarke's brain become the narration to a romance novel? This stupid asshole was no good for her. I should run, she thought. Right now. Sprint into the woods and never return, maybe shoot Bellamy in the chest before I do. She should've ran.

But she didn't.

Slowly, Bellamy began to move his feet. It was a strange feeling, her balancing on his shoes; like she was floating. His hands on her waist sturdied her, kept her balanced and grounded. Her hands clutched the fabric of his t-shirt, and she was surrounded by the scent of him; like ash and mint and home. Clarke rested her head in the crook of his neck, and her lips graced his skin.

She felt his hot breath on her ear, and a low vibration emerged from his throat. He's singing, she realized. He began to hum a soft little tune; the song sounded peaceful and happy, and it made her want to melt, to sleep for all eternity. At the same time, she felt empowered, like she wanted to hug everyone in the camp. It was a feeling she couldn't articulate.

She was surprised when Bellamy shifted from humming to murmuring actual words; she didn't know he could sing, but the sound filled her body with warmth. His singing voice was soft and low, and each word tickled her ear.

Silent night  
>Holy night<br>All is calm  
>All is bright<p>

His voice was rough in her ear, but yet calming at the same time. She imagined Bellamy singing this song to Octavia when they both were small.

Bellamy stopped signing. He gently swayed Clarke's body against his own; her breath tickled in his ear.

"What song is that?" Clarke whispered into Bellamy's shoulder.

He leaned his head down even more so his forehead was almost resting on her shoulder and whispered in her ear, "Silent Night."

Clarke wanted to make a smart ass remark. It was what she knew to always do, but someone it seemed wrong. Bellamy was telling her this, God knows why but he was, and she would respect him. She moved her hands down his back, feeling the hard earned muscles underneath. The metal of the gun warned her she was close to his waistband but she didn't stop her hands. She didn't want to.

Clarke gripped the belt of his pants holding him against her.

"Come on princess," Bellamy whispered. "I want to show you something."

Clarke was reluctant, but stepped off Bellamy's feet and let him lead her outside the drop ship. The ground was cloaked in white and the bonfire casted a yellow glow to the snow.

"Where are we going?"

Bellamy turned back to her and smiled like a little kid. "Just come see."

The fence of the camp loomed closer until they were against the wall, looking for the exit point. The shadows of the trees hid them well enough that Clarke could stand and watch the party goers, and they didn't notice her.

Suddenly shivers went up her spine. Bellamy had taken her hand and was pulling her through the gap in the fence.

The world outside the camp was silent. Nothing was moving, it was like everything was asleep.

"'Twas night before Christmas  
>And all through the house."<p>

Bellamy walked forward into the night whispering his tale of Christmas, somehow still keeping his smart-ass tone, like he was laughing at her.

"Not a creature was stirring  
>Not even a mouse."<p>

"Bellamy, should we be out here? What about the Grounders," Clarke watched the woods as they walked.

For some reason that Clarke couldn't place, she didn't feel in danger. She felt... Safe. Despite all the stuff that was going on, Clarke felt no sense of danger. She felt like no one could hurt her. It was the first time she felt this way since being on the ground.

Something's wrong, she thought. We should definitely run.

"Bellamy-" Clarke couldn't bring herself to finish that sentence. There was no threat that she could see. As far as she was considered there could be nothing.

Is it Bellamy? Is that why I feel safe?

Clarke shook those thoughts out of her head and continued to follow Bellamy. He lead her up a hug incline until they were high enough up to see Mount Weather.

The ground was barely visible, even though they went that high up. A thin layer of mist coated the ground making the party goers looking like ghosts. The tree tops and vines had a dense layer of snow on top of them. A web of white.

Clarke took a sharp intake of breathe thinking only of how her hand would sketch out the details of each shadow and each snowflake.

"Pretty nice, isn't it?" Bellamy said.  
>Her thoughts were immediately pulled away from charcoal to the boy standing not to her. No, he wasn't a boy anymore. The ground had made him a man.<p>

"Yeah," Clarke sighed not knowing what to say. It truly was a beautiful sight.

Bellamy sat down lazily on the ground and stretched out his legs. Then he leaned back, placing his hands behind his head to look up at the stars. Clarke didn't think twice before laying down next to him.  
>Snowflakes fell all around them. Clarke tried as best she could but her teeth chattered anyway.<p>

Thought the net of vines and leafs Bellamy could see the stars twinkling above. None of them, not one, was as beautiful as Clarke.

"Here," Bellamy said pulling Clarke to his chest letting her share his body heat. "Better?"

Clarke couldn't say a thing. Her mouth wasn't working. The cold night air only made the muscles under his shirt stand out more with every breathe. That world was warm and cold at the same time. Maybe it's was because Bellamy's body was hot and air was cold but ether way she liked the mix.

"Clarke," Bellamy whispered. She tilted her head up and took in his face bathed in the moonlight. Every scar, every war wound stood out in the silver glow, but that was what made him more...exquisite.

"Bellamy," she answered in a whisper. Neither could tell who moved first, but one minute they were looking at each other and then next Bellamy's hands were on Clarke's back holding her against him while their lips moved together.

The sound of cheering rose up from far off, even though he knew it wasn't for them, Bellamy felt like it was. It felt like the whole world was cheering.

Bellamy moved to kiss Clarke's forehead before letting her lay back down on his chest.

"Do you wanna go and join everyone else?" he asked.

Clarke's smiled the biggest she had in a long time while brushing her finger tips along her lips. She snuggled in closer to Bellamy never wanting to leave. "Let's just stay up here for a while."

She absentmindedly wondered if she would see the famed Santa's sleigh fly over head, but even so she didn't want anything else for Christmas.

"Merry Christmas Clarke."

He waited for an answer but she had already fallen asleep, her head nested into the space between his shoulder and neck.


End file.
